


wounded, handsome duck

by castielanderson



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:17:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy needs something safe to jack off to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wounded, handsome duck

If there is anything,  _anything at all_ , that bothers Foggy about Matt, it’s that he’s a fucking nerd who never stops studying.  Granted it takes Matt longer to go through his notes and shit because he relies mainly on his computer and it goes slower than his brain would like, but still - the guy needs to take more fucking breaks, and Foggy doesn’t like partying without him.  It’s just so damn boring and he never really has the energy to keep up with the bullshit Marci talks about.

So tonight, he spent a stupid amount of time drinking alone, until Marci found him, teased him, and then left with another guy.  Now he’s left walking alone back to his dorm with this lame-ass half boner and he really fucking needs to masturbate.  If Matt is still up studying, Foggy’s going to fucking lose it.  

He puts his key in the lock as quietly as he can, and pushes the door open even quieter.  Thankfully, Matt’s asleep.  His laptop rests on the floor, his glasses are off, and he’s curled up beneath his comforter.

“Matt?” Foggy whispers, just to double check.  There’s no answer, so Foggy snaps his fingers a few times.  “Matt, you asleep?”

He says nothing, and Foggy breathes a sigh of relief.

Eager to jack off, Foggy hurries to stumble out of his shoes.  He rips his beanie and coat off, drops his jeans on the floor, and crawls into bed.  He slips his hand beneath his underwear, easy, and finds himself still half-hard, but waning. He sighs and begins stroking away.  The heat between his legs is still desperate, and if he just focuses, he’ll be able to come.

He thinks about Marci’s boobs tonight, hanging low without a bra in her short-ass dress.  She looked so good, and Foggy was practically drooling.  Figures she’d leave the party with another guy.  This weird friends-with-benefits thing is getting old, and Foggy’s tired.

He sighs, pulling his hand from his cock and turning to bury his face in his pillow.

Okay, thinking about Marci was a bad idea.  Now he’s just angry and turning himself off.  Taking a deep breath, he slides his hand back underneath his underwear and wraps his fingers around the base of his cock.

He needs something neutral to think about.  Something that will get him off but won’t stir up any unwanted emotions.  Foggy leans his head back, closes his eyes, and lets his mind stir.  The night is quiet.  All he can hear is the fan in the bathroom and Matt’s breathing.

Foggy’s heart, and surprisingly enough his dick too, give a twitch when he thinks of Matt.  There’s something he’ll never dig into.  Perfect.

Ever since Matt stepped foot in their dorm first year, Foggy’s been in awe.  He’s so well-built, and his face is absolutely gorgeous.  Usually he hides behind his glasses, but when he does take them off and lets Foggy look at his eyes, they’re beautiful.  Intense, sexy.  For a blind man, he has a hell of a bedroom gaze.

Foggy moves his hands faster, breath starting to pick up.

God, Matt is fucking atrociously attractive.  His ass is the perkiest thing Foggy’s ever seen, and his pecs must be God’s gift to mankind.  And his lips,  _fuck_ , his lips.  Foggy can see them now, red and wet,  He imagines them between his legs, at the base of his cock.  They’d kiss up to the head, slow, agonizing, and then they’d take his head, wet and warm.

“Fuck,” Foggy hisses under his breath.  He thumbs the slit of his head and feels his hips buck up.  “Fuck, Matt.”  It just slips out, and Foggy doesn’t even care.

Shit, he would give anything to have gone with him to that party tonight, and forget Marci, Foggy would rather take Matt back to their dorm and let Matt fuck him til he’s screaming.  They’ve got a nice dorm on the top floor.  It’s smaller than all the rest, and their walls are thick.  Fuck, he would do anything Matt wanted him to do, and then when it’s his turn, he’d take care of Matt - like legitimately take care of him.  The poor guy deserves it, deserves really good, slow sex, and a worthwhile orgasm.  Not just the rut-it-out bullshit.  No, Foggy would do everything.  He knows how to work a girl, and he’d give Matt the best foreplay treatment.

“Shit,” Foggy hisses.  He’s fucking his hand now, his fingers basically limp as his dick and hips do all the work.  “Shit, shit, shit.”

He’s imagining the night now, Matt kissing his way from Foggy’s neck down to his cock.  He’d work Foggy off with his tongue, his fingers, and then he’d work Foggy’s ass until he was ready.  Then he’d finally slip out of his underwear and damn - Matt probably has a great dick.  It’s probably on the big side, but not too big, just enough to make Foggy feel like he could burst with pleasure.  And Matt would know just where to thrust.  Foggy knows.  Matt’s spooky like that, has some kind of intuition only a blind man can.

“Fuck, right there, Matt,” Foggy breathes.  He can almost feel it, feel Matt on top of him, pinning him back, fucking him hard.  “Shit, fuck, shit.”

He comes all over his hand and stomach, sticking the sheets.  Foggy just lies there for a moment, breathing heavily.

“Shit,” he says again.  “I wish that was real.”

He kicks the sheets off, tucks his dick back into his briefs, then sits up.  He grabs the week-old water from his nightstand and takes a swig.  Honestly, that was probably the bast masturbation session he’s had in awhile.  He looks over to Matt’s bed with a stupid smirk, and for a second he is terrified to find Matt looking back at him.

He blinks, then realizes the dark must have played a trick on his eyes.  Matt’s eyes are definitely closed.  He thinks.  Or at least, he convinces himself when he flops back into bed and curls onto his side.  He’s asleep within minutes.

Across the room, Matt’s wide awake, his fucking dick aching.  He takes a deep breath, whispers, “Foggy?”, and when there’s no reply, sticks his hand down his pants.


End file.
